08/05/2026
一個美國人在台中：T.C. Brown美國大兵的台灣成年禮
本週我們進行了一場別具意義的對話。非常有幸能與《Made in Taiwan》的作者，也是前美國空軍退伍軍人T.C. Brown坐下來，進行一場詳盡的訪談，聆聽他親口述說半個世紀前他在服役的點點滴滴。這不僅是一段跨越五十年的歷史回憶，更宛如一部真實版的《一個美國人在巴黎》（花都舞影，An American in Paris）——只不過，這一次擦出生命火花的舞台，是1960年代的台中。
時間倒轉回1968年的8月，當時年僅18歲的T.C. Brown從美國俄亥俄州來到台灣，被分發到了台中的清泉崗（CCK）空軍基地。對當時的他來說，台灣是一個完全陌生的地方，一開始甚至連台灣在地圖上的哪裡都不知道。然而，他卻在這裡度過了從青少年步入成年的關鍵歲月，直到1973年離開。他在訪談中真情流露地說，自己可以說是在這裡「真正長大成人」的。闊別53年後，他帶著對於青春歲月的思念，以及兩年前過世妻子的精神陪伴，再次踏上了這片對他意義非凡的土地。
對於一個原本以為自己懂盡天下事、以為一輩子都不會改變的美國中西部男孩來說，這段在台灣的經歷徹底改變了他的一生。而這個改變他一生的「台灣」，精確地說，就是「台中」。他對街上滿滿的腳踏車陣、瘋狂的計程車司機，甚至是早年隨處可見、讓人感到震撼的「便所溝」河川都留下了深刻的印記。這些強烈的文化衝擊不僅開闊了他的視野，也讓他意識到即使身處在一個看似奇異且陌生的文化中，人類的本質卻又是如此相似，這是他帶回美國最重要的人生課題。
在訪談中，T.C. Brown 也為我們還原了許多第一手的生活細節。他最初的工作是在清泉崗基地，日夜巡守那些價值百萬美元的飛機裝備。到了1969年初，他被調派至市區的「鎮上巡邏隊（Town Patrol）」，與中華民國的在地警察及憲兵共同執勤。這個職務讓他深入了當時台中市區最著名的美軍娛樂中心——位於五權路上的「花街十二（the Dirty Dozen）」。
「花街十二」其實不僅僅是12家酒吧，據他回憶，當時街道兩側至少開了15到20家以上的酒吧。當時清泉崗基地駐紮了約一萬到一萬兩千名美軍，這條街每天下午三、四點開門，一直營業到凌晨兩點，可以說是夜夜笙歌、全年無休。身為巡邏隊員，他們的工作就是要處理美軍在這條街上發生的各種狀況，包含車禍、酒醉鬧事或打架。
訪談結束後，我們陪著T.C. 走訪一趟他口中那些「不知道還在不在」的舊地。當年他被調到市區後，與其他十多位美國憲兵一起住進的那間HOSTEL，正是今天美村路上的「聯勤美軍招待所」舊址。我們也走了一趟五權路，T.C. 指著街道兩側笑說：「Dirty Dozen 現在已經不dirty 了。」順著他的記憶比對當年酒吧的位置——蒙地卡羅、花花公子、大禮帽——多數早已消失，但建材行的老闆娘聽到我們在做什麼後非常熱情，主動分享起她小時候在這條街上看見美軍的場景。我們也找到了T.C. 自己當年在市區租的那間公寓，就在今天的中華路夜市附近，他曾在這裡的陽台和朋友們放沖天炮給樓下小孩看，是他在台中最美好的一段日子。
除了絢爛的夜生活，音樂更是這群離鄉背井的年輕士兵連結家鄉最重要的慰藉。在俱樂部裡，每天都有本地樂團演奏著美國當紅的搖滾樂與靈魂樂；當時在台中市區還能以10元新台幣（約25美分）的超低價，買到美國最新發行的盜版黑膠唱片。此外，許多士兵也會訂做西裝、購買日本進口的高級音響設備，甚至大肆採購台灣的藤製傢俱（例如大圓藤椅），最後透過空軍免費運回美國。
長期以來，關於美軍駐台時期在台中的生活，尤其是五權路的夜生活與基地的運作，在地方上多半流於茶餘飯後的傳聞與軼事。然而，T.C. Brown透過他的回憶錄《Made in Taiwan》以及這次的詳盡訪談，為我們提供了一個極為珍貴的「美軍真實視角」。
這是一個美國人在台中蛻變為大人的青春記事，他真實記錄了那個時代的工作樣貌與休閒生活，更填補了台中城市發展史中一段經常被模糊處理的記憶拼圖。了解這些早期的樣貌，知道這座城市是如何一步步發展至今，對我們來說意義重大。我們非常期待T.C. Brown這部珍貴的著作未來能有中文版的問世，讓更多人能夠讀到這段屬於台中的美麗記憶。
👇 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰 👇
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An American in Taichung: T.C. Brown's Coming-of-Age in 1960s Taiwan
This week, we had the privilege of sitting down with T.C. Brown — a U.S. Air Force veteran and the author of Made in Taiwan — for a long, in-depth conversation. We listened as he recounted, in his own words, the days and details of his service here more than half a century ago. What unfolded was not only a journey across fifty years of memory, but something almost like a real-life An American in Paris — except that this time, the stage where a young man's life caught fire was 1960s Taichung.
Rewind to August 1968. T.C. Brown was just 18 years old when he flew from Ohio to Taiwan and was assigned to Ching Chuan Kang (CCK) Air Base in Taichung. To him, Taiwan was a complete unknown — when he first received his orders, he didn't even know where Taiwan was on the map. And yet it was here, in this unfamiliar place, that he passed through the formative years between adolescence and adulthood, leaving only in 1973. In our interview, he said with great sincerity that this was where he had "really grown up." Now, fifty-three years later, he has returned to this island that means so much to him — carrying with him both the longing of his youth, and the spiritual companionship of his late wife, who passed away two years ago.
For a Midwestern boy who once thought he understood the world, who once believed he would never change, this Taiwan chapter transformed his life completely. And that "Taiwan" which changed him was, more precisely, Taichung. He still vividly remembers the streets crowded with bicycles, the wildly daring taxi drivers, and even the benjo ditches — the open drainage channels that were a common, startling sight to him at the time. The cultural shock did more than broaden his horizons; it taught him that even in a culture that seems strange and foreign on the surface, the human core remains remarkably similar. That, he says, is the most important lesson he carried home with him to America.
In the interview, T.C. Brown also restored for us many first-hand details of daily life. His earliest job at CCK was guarding the multi-million-dollar aircraft and equipment, day and night. By early 1969, he had been reassigned to the Town Patrol, working downtown alongside Republic of China military police and local Taiwanese officers. The new posting brought him deep into Taichung's most legendary American servicemen's entertainment hub — the "Dirty Dozen" on Wuquan Road.
Despite the name, the Dirty Dozen was never just twelve bars. As T.C. recalls, the street was lined on both sides with at least fifteen to twenty bars. With ten to twelve thousand U.S. servicemen stationed at CCK at the time, the strip opened around three or four in the afternoon and ran until two in the morning — every single day, year-round. As Town Patrol officers, T.C. and his fellow Air Police were the ones who handled whatever happened along the strip: car accidents, drunken disturbances, brawls.
After the interview, we walked T.C. through some of the places he had described as "I don't even know if they're still there." The hostel where he had once roomed with a dozen-odd fellow Air Police, after his Town Patrol assignment, turned out to be the building still standing today on Meicun Road as the former "Combined Service Forces (CSF) U.S. Military Hostel." We also walked Wuquan Road together. Pointing at the street on both sides, T.C. laughed: "The Dirty Dozen isn't dirty anymore." Following his memory, we tried to match the locations of the old bars — the Monte Carlo, the Pl***oy, the Top Hat — most of which are long gone. But when the owner of a nearby building-materials shop heard what we were doing, she became extraordinarily warm, sharing her own childhood memories of seeing American GIs along this very street. Finally, we located the apartment T.C. had once rented downtown — right by what is today the Chunghua Road Night Market. It was on this very balcony that he and his friends used to set off bottle rockets to entertain the children downstairs. As he told us, those were some of the happiest days of his life in Taichung.
Beyond the dazzling nightlife, music was perhaps the most vital thread connecting these young, far-from-home soldiers back to the world they had left behind. In the clubs, local bands played the American rock and soul hits of the day every night; downtown Taichung also offered the latest American records — pirated copies — for as little as 10 NT dollars (about 25 cents apiece). Beyond music, many GIs commissioned tailor-made suits, bought top-quality Japanese-imported stereo equipment, and shipped home generous loads of Taiwanese rattan furniture (the iconic large round papasan chair, for instance) — all of which the U.S. Air Force shipped back to the States free of charge.
For a long time, the lived experience of American servicemen during their decades in Taichung — particularly the nightlife of Wuquan Road and the inner workings of the bases — has lingered locally as little more than rumor and barroom anecdote. Through his memoir Made in Taiwan and this in-depth conversation, however, T.C. Brown has offered us something deeply rare and valuable: an authentic view from inside the American servicemen's experience.
This is the coming-of-age record of an American who became a man in Taichung. It captures the truth of what work and leisure looked like in those years, and it fills in a chapter of Taichung's urban history that has too often been blurred or set aside. Understanding these earlier shapes of the city — knowing how Taichung step by step became what it is today — matters greatly to us. We very much look forward to a future Chinese-language edition of T.C. Brown's Made in Taiwan, so that more readers can encounter this beautiful piece of Taichung's memory.
